


The Biter

by KnightandBeauty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Loneliness, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightandBeauty/pseuds/KnightandBeauty
Summary: “I think he's been watching me for a while, planning it out," Brienne said, a chill running down her spine.“But why, why you?” Jaime grilled, scowling.“He might've thought that no one would come looking for me if..." she trailed off.“Well, he thought wrong.”While mourning her father in self-imposed isolation, Brienne encounters a mysterious figure that would like nothing more than to sink his teeth into her. With Jaime’s help, will they have what it takes to survive the night? And if so, what will it cost them?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90





	The Biter

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this, had a breakdown, bon appetite! But yeah, this idea has been kicking around my head for quite a while, and I finally got around to writing it! This is definite departure from my usual stuff, but I'm fairly proud of this honkin' thing. It’s very much inspirited by horror movie vibes, so take the actual hard logic with a grain of salt, and you’ll have a good time. Enjoy!

"Why do you always let your phone die, wench?" Jaime asked, taking a sip from his coffee cup. Her nose wrinkled at the familiar but annoying nickname. They had only been sitting down for five minutes, and he was already giving Brienne hell. She had agreed to meet him at their favorite coffee shop, The Just Maid, because she thought he was only looking to catch up. It looked like she was getting a lecture as a bonus.

"Nobody calls me anyway, what's the point of keeping it charged?" She shrugged, looking out the window to avoid his narrowing emerald eyes. Unfortunately, nobody passed by the shop, so her attempt at looking vaguely distracted probably seemed as feeble as it was.

"Well, maybe you think nobody calls you because your phone is always dead when they call. Ever think of that?" he countered.

"Nobody has ever complained about it, so until someone does, I don't see the problem," she shrugged, reluctantly looking back his direction.

"I'm right here, complaining about it. Right now!" Jaime exclaimed, poking the table for emphasis. She rolled her eyes.

"A _thousand_ apologies, your Grace," she said with a little flourish of her hand. He narrowed his eyes further. She couldn't help it if he insisted on living up to the title of Drama King. "I don't get service at my house, so I tend to forget about charging it." 

"What are you talking about? I get service at your house just fine!"

"That's because you pay a one-hundred-dragon phone bill every month for that fancy-schmancy thing," she pointed out, gesturing to the phone next to his coffee.

"Yeah, so?"

"Not all of us are as flippant with their money," Brienne shook her head, smiling. She wasn't even close to poor, but that didn't mean she didn't try to be practical. And besides, her phone got the job done well enough. "Look, if it's that annoying, I'll try to be better about it in the future."

"I'd appreciate that," he said, sounding satisfied, though his face fell. "I just miss talking to you, you know?"

"I know," she mumbled, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I get it," Jaime laid his hand over hers and squeezed it. He gave a little nod as if to confirm his words doubly before taking his hand back.

They used to work together under Catelyn Stark. It wasn't all that exciting, a simple office job, but it became considerably more interesting when Jaime had begun working there. She didn't meet him until his first day but heard a coworker mention something about him breaking away from his father's company.

She would never forget the look on his face the first time he laid eyes on her. That unfortunate introduction led to weeks and weeks of mean jabs and dirty looks. It only shifted when they were paired together for a business trip to Winterfell. It turned out they worked well together. They also happened to encounter a wild bear on the way back. Before either of them knew it, they were friends. To Brienne's surprise, it made coming to the office _fun._

But that was before Brienne's father passed. She had gone on leave to Tarth, to take care of him in his declining health, but after he died, she never returned to work. All of her friends and coworkers sent flowers and cards of sympathy, but after that initial wave, it was virtual silence. The only person other than Jaime who had made an effort to reach out was Pod, but she didn't want to bother him with her now-usual dour mood. 

"Do you wanna come over later? I finally got my hands on that last Goldenhand movie, with the extended cut! We could get takeout and watch it."

"No, it's okay. I have a book I really wanted to get started on, can we do it another time?" 

"Sure," He said, smiling, though she knew he was forcing it. Not that he wasn't expert at masking his genuine emotions (as a Lannister, he was a natural). He was pretending ignorance for her sake, and she was grateful. "Another time, then."

* * *

It was the third day in a row that Brienne hadn't left the house, and it was starting to show. Her usually tidy braid was falling to bits, strands of hair were sprouting out of it in all directions. She hadn't changed her shirt since yesterday morning, and though it didn't smell at all, it was certainly wrinkled. Though she had lied about the urgency with which she wanted to read her new book, she didn't lie about having a book to read. She hadn't cracked it open since she bought it but _was_ looking forward to reading it. In the middle of looking for it, she cursed under her breath. She had left it in the back seat of her car. After donning a pair of slippers and finding her keys, she stepped into the night. 

It was only six o'clock, but the sky was already verging on inky-black. Cold Autumn wind whistled through the surrounding trees, making the dead leaves on the ground jump and flutter. Regretting not turning the porch light on or bringing a coat, she quickly walked down the dew-dampened steps of the porch and onto her driveway. 

Her car wasn't the fanciest, but she still liked looking at it. Most people would just see an old, scratched up compact, but not in her eyes. Something was pleasing about its shimmering blue color and how it hit the light on a hot summer day. It had been a gift from her father when she first got her license, and would likely drive it until the wheels fell off. After taking a moment to admire how the light of the moon hit the sunroof, she unlocked the backseat, reached in, snatched the book, and stood back up.

Just as she locked the door and shut it, she felt someone grab her braid and forcibly yanked her backward. A large arm clutched her roughly around the waist, and a set of short dirty nails were digging viciously into her side. After yelping in alarm, she tried to pry the arm from her middle, but it wouldn't budge. Tensing her core, she turned and repeatedly elbowed the mysterious attacker in the chest. It made them both stumble back, her enemy losing their footing momentarily. As she did it one last time, the hand holding her braid released it and snatched her forearm as it swung back, twisting it upward at an awkward, painful angle. Afraid her arm might be pulled from its socket if she didn't act fast, she kicked behind her swiftly and repeatedly, aiming for the groin. 

Suddenly her arm felt like it was aflame. She craned her neck to look behind her and saw something that made her blood run cold. The _man_ behind her had teeth that were all filed down to sharp points, and he had just dug them right into her skin.

With a cry of horror, she swung her right leg backward again. Luckily this time, she hit her target. His gripped loosened as he let out an inhuman hiss. She yanked her arm back, though as she pulled, the teeth scraped down towards her wrist, creating multiple scraping cuts. Ignoring the pain, she bolted for the house, not daring to look behind her as she fled.

She'd never been more relieved to reach her front porch. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest as she flung the door open and ran in, slamming it shut. Having locked the handle and the deadbolt with incredible speed, she stared out the window attached to the door. He was still next to her car. He seemed to have recovered from the blow to his crotch, standing tall once again. It was hard to see him in the still growing darkness, but she gleaned what she could.

He was enormous, dwarfing even _Brienne_ by comparison. He was bald, and his baggy clothes hung off him oddly. He was now wielding what looked to be a knife he hadn't had before. She watched, transfixed as he crouched down and sliced at her car's front and back tires. After he did the same to the left side, he looked directly into the window at her, smiling.

Without thinking, she tugged the curtain over the window shut with a shudder and backed away. She then dashed through the rest of the house, triple checking that each of the other doors and windows was locked tight. As she shut the tiny one next to her bed, she peered out of it, looking for any signs of the pointy-teethed freak. He was no longer by her car, but she couldn't see him anywhere else. She headed back downstairs, searching for a weapon.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the front door. Brienne jumped and practically tumbled down the stairs at the ordinary but unsettling sound. This creep clearly thought this was some kind of sick game. But she refused to hide from anyone, especially not in her own home. Squaring her shoulders, she finished descending the stairs, grabbed a steak knife from the cutting board in the kitchen, and walked toward the door. The silhouette on the other side of the covered pane was about as tall as her. However, their build was much too small to be her assailant. It looked to be another trick, meant to confuse and catch her. All the same, she needed to know.

Warily fumbling for the switch, she flipped the porch light on and steeled herself. She whipped the curtain open, and her tensed posture fell away. It wasn't the monster with pointed teeth; it was Jaime. The casual smirk on his face vanished when he caught sight of her fearful expression. His eyes then traveled down to the torn, bloodied end of her sleeve, and his brows knitted together in concern. 

She considered yelling through the glass for him to leave right away and not come back, but she had no idea where her pursuer was. What if they got Jaime on the way back to his car? And the likelihood of Jaime actually heeding her instructions was slim to none. It was already too late. After setting down the knife, she unlocked and swung the door open. Jaime looked utterly bewildered as she clutched his arm and pulled him in, shutting and locking the door behind him with haste.

"Brienne, what the fuck is going on? What happened?" he said as she continued to pull him further away from the door. "Why is there blood on you?"

"There's a... a man somewhere out there. He tried to attack me as I grabbed something from my car," she said, attempting to keep her voice level and failing. "I fought him off, but he--"

Finding it easier to show him rather than saying it aloud, she lifted her sleeve to reveal the dragged-out bite marks on her forearm. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but it was still a gruesome sight.

"Did-- did he _bite_ you?" Jaime whispered, his face twisting in outrage and disgust. But instead of backing away, he came closer, reaching for her arm but stopping short. He looked into her eyes, silently asking permission to inspect the injury. After a moment, she shakily nodded her assent. He gently took her elbow and wrist, guiding her over to sit on the barstool against the kitchen island. He laid her forearm down on the cold granite surface, the chill distracting from the sting of her wound. It looked even worse in the direct light. 

"When did this happen?" he asked, sounding strained as he looked it over.

"Not even fifteen minutes ago. I would've started cleaning this off, but I was trying to make sure the house was secure before doing anything else," she said hastily, feeling the need to defend her decision. 

"I get it, and that's okay. Have you seen him since he attacked you?"

"When I made it back inside, he was slashing my tires. He looked right at me," Brienne suppressed a shiver as the image of his bloody, pointed teeth, shining in the darkness flashed through her mind. "But I haven't seen him since. _You_ must be an unexpected complication, though. He might be rethinking everything now." 

"He should be. He picked the wrong wench to fuck with," he growled, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He took a calming breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "You have a first aid kit in your bathroom, right?"

She nodded.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get it, and we'll see what we can do about your arm. Call for me if you see or hear anything out there, okay?" 

"I will." He gave her a look of uncertainty before turning down the hall.

She took a cautious glance towards the front door, but she couldn't see anything from where she was sitting. It only just occurred to her that she had no idea why Jaime had shown up at her house to begin with. They hadn't talked at all since the coffee shop and had made no other plans to hang out. Nevertheless, he was here. He returned a minute later, kit in tow, his face set. Placing it on the counter and flipping the plastic tabs open, he peered inside. Brienne sat quietly as he rifled through it, taking out bandages, gauze pads, antibiotic ointment, and scissors.

"We're going to need to wash it off a bit before we dress it. Let's go over to the sink, okay?"

"Alright."

She stood up, and like a sleepwalker, followed Jaime over to the counter. He turned on the water, and Brienne held her arm out before Jaime put up a hand to stop her. 

"Hold on, let me get it to a better temperature first. It's freezing right now," he said, fiddling with the faucet. 

"Okay."

Even from the tiniest bit of effort of his muscles, she could see them moving appealingly under his red T-shirt. Her eyes traveled up to his chiseled face. His focused expression only enhanced his already flawless features. He had always been as handsome as the day was long, and tonight was no exception. 

_Wow, Brienne,_ she thought, _ there is a possible murderer after you. Your friend helps you out in your time of need, and you repay that by ogling him? Keep it together. Ask him something, not related to his muscles. _

"Hey, Jaime?"

"Yeah?"

"Why _did_ you come here tonight?"

"I... wanted to surprise you. You were scowling a bit more than usual the other day. I thought you might feel better if you had some company," he said, checking the water's temperature once more before she stuck the bite under the tap. She couldn't hold back a hiss as the water flowed through the wound. She saw Jaime flinch at the sound out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing about it. He went on. "I would've gone away, no questions asked, if you really wanted me to. But, I imagine it gets kinda lonely out here."

Brienne forgot what it felt like _not_ to be lonely. Ever since she was a child and lost her brother, mother, and sisters, loneliness had been her most constant companion. And now, with her father gone, there was no more pretending she had anyone else to talk to. Still, it was touching to know that her trusted friend wanted to fill some of that emptiness. But now he was here, in danger because of her.

"I wish you hadn't," she whispered. When her eyes lifted from the blood circling the drain, Jaime looked stricken. "I just.. I'd feel better if you were safe in your apartment, watching old Goldenhand movies or something."

"Are you kidding me? Thank the _Gods_ I came when I did; now you have some backup when--"

"Jaime, come on. I of all people don't need someone to protect me," she gestured to her entire muscular body with her free hand.

"I just meant that we could watch each other's backs. Of course, I know you can handle yourself, wench. You used to knock me on my ass every weekend when we would fence," he said, chuckling softly before his face gradually fell. They hadn't done any fencing in a long time, not since she left work for good. She missed doing it with him, and by the looks of it, he did too. She made a mental note to ask him if he wanted to bring that back sometime. If they both made it out of this shit show, that was. She could text...

Then the thought struck her.

"Jaime, wait. Do you have your phone on you? We can just call the Goldcloaks!"

He immediately began slapping each one of his jean pockets, feeling around for their thin rectangular savior. After he checked each pocket twice, he threw his head back and cursed.

"It's still plugged into my car. That's it. I'm swearing off podcasts after this."

"Well, we'll need to get to it somehow. But we're going to need to set eyes on _him_ again before we make any moves," she said, taking the bottle of soap on the rim of the sink and pouring a couple of small drops onto her arm. Doing her best to lather it up, she gently swiped the foam around the bite, getting as close as possible without touching it. After she was content with the job she had done, she began rinsing it away. She was rewarded with more blood that ran down her wrist and into the valley of her palm. When she noticed it gathering there, she twisted her hand, and the tiny puddle dropped, splashing into the drain.

"Do you know what his _deal_ is?" he asked abruptly, making her jump. "Sorry."

"It's fine. And I have no clue. But, I think he's been watching me for a while, planning it out," Brienne said, getting the chills. There had been a few strange occurrences lately that she had thought nothing of at the time. When she went to wash her car about a week ago, the scrub bucket was in the back yard. She _knew_ that she hadn't left it there but had waved it off, citing her grief as an excuse for her absent mind, but now it made sense.

"But why? Why _you?"_ Jaime grilled, scowling.

"He might've thought that no one would come looking for me if..." she trailed off. It was a sound theory. Brienne didn't have many friends over to visit. With it being so far out of King's Landing, it felt rude to ask what little friends she had to make the trip out. And apparently, a local criminal had taken notice. 

"Well, he thought wrong," Jaime affirmed. She removed her hand from the running water, and he turned it off for her. As she let the wound drip dry, she looked back up at him. There was a dangerous glint in his eye. "This fucker is gonna pay, mark my words."

Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but roll her eyes as she walked back over and sat at the island once again, Jaime following close behind. 

"You know we're going to need to be smart about this, right?" she asked as she attempted to open the antibiotic ointment with one hand, yielding poor results. Jaime gave her a look as if to say, _need a hand?_ She handed the bottle over with a huff, and he chuckled under his breath. He opened it with ease, setting down the cap and squeezing a decent amount onto Brienne's outstretched fingers. 

"Of course, but it doesn't mean that I can't look forward to beating the shit out of him," he said, his face draining of all humor. 

With much care, she began to spread the ointment over the wound. Luckily, no stinging came as she tried to cover each puncture as thoroughly as possible. Something was calming about the process. She could almost forget why her arm was open and had been bleeding at all.

"That's _exactly_ what it means. If we're careful, we won't have to confront him at all," Brienne pointed out. When she was done coating the cuts, she wiped the remaining balm on a nearby washcloth. Before she could reach for them, Jaime picked up the gauze pads and the scissors. She almost told him that she could do it herself, but thought better of it when she caught his close to frantic expression. He was desperate to do _something,_ and she couldn't bear to take that from him.

Brienne watched as he held up the gauze to her forearm, cut the pad to the appropriate length, and gently laid it over the cuts. He then reached for the roll of bandages and attentively began wrapping her arm up. 

"That's not too tight, right? It feels okay?" he asked, eyes scanning her for signs of discomfort. His proximity to her face and intense manner inevitably made her blush.

"It's fine, thanks." 

Once he was finished, he sliced the excess away and patted the end down it down, ensuring it was securely fastened.

"Anyway, I bet we could take 'em. There's two of us and one of him," he said, and as no shock to her, he wasn't joking. 

"Jaime, you haven't even seen him yet. He's huge, like, bigger than _me_ huge. And fencing on the weekends isn't sufficient enough practice for taking down a potential murderer!"

"Well, you haven't seen me fight recently; I'm getting pretty good. Just ask the dummy I practiced on last week."

"Come on, Jaime. Cut it out. If the guy shows up right now, We wouldn't be prepared at all. In terms of defending ourselves, what do we have?" she said, getting up and making her way to the living room, scanning for anything useful. Jaime strode after her, rubbing his chin as though he were a detective trying to solve a case. It would've been infuriating if he weren't so handsome. 

"Don't you have that model Oathkeeper hanging on your wall? That's probably our best bet in terms of weaponry."

"It certainly would be, if it wasn't only a foam model. You're the one who sprang for the metal version of Widow's Wail."

"Shit, well, at least I know what you're getting for Christmas now."

"Is there any way I can talk you out of spending that much on a present?"

"Not a chance."

Brienne did give a little giggle at that, despite herself. It was selfish, and she was ashamed to admit it, but part of her was over the moon that Jaime was here. This night would be much more frightening if she knew she had to endure it alone. In a scrape, she knew she could rely on him. Not just anyone would put themselves between her and a fully grown bear. His presence was more comforting than she could ever express.

And then she saw it. There was movement out of the corner of her eye, and she subtly turned her head. It had to be him.

"Look!" she whispered urgently, pointing as sneakily as she could. There the creep was, outside the living room window, knife in hand. He seemed to be waiting them out. 

"Gods, you weren't kidding," Jaime said, his eyes bulging. "He's massive."

"See? That's is why we can't take 'em head-on. We need to do something now before he disappears again," she maintained. They needed a plan. At least their biting 'friend' wasn't camping out at one of the doors. An idea struck. "I think I've got something, but you're not going to like it." 

He turned to her, his face already troubled.

"We need to split up."

"What? That is _not_ happening. There's no way I'm lea--" 

"Just _listen._ I'm going to lead him to the other side of the house-- _while remaining indoors,"_ she added to ease his dismay. "I'll only make it _look_ like I'm going to go out there to face him, while you go to your car, grab your phone and call the Goldcloaks. They'll take a while getting out here, but once you're back in the house, we should be able to hold out until then." 

Jaime opened his mouth to argue, but she put three fingers on his lips, effectively stunning him. Brienne didn't like the plan much either, but she knew he'd never agree to let her go outside to grab the phone herself.

_"Please_ , this might be our only shot. Will you do it?" 

Reluctantly, he nodded. Out of nowhere, he took Brienne's hand and planted a kiss on it. Even now, he flashed his signature grin, though it didn't have as much shine as usual. She could feel her cheeks heating with what was sure to be an ugly blotchy blush. Jaime didn't seem to mind, however. If anything, his grin grew at the sight of it. He gave her hand an affectionate rub of his thumb before letting it go. He seemed to remember what they were about to do, and his expression sobered in an instant.

"Be careful, alright?" he asked. "You'd better be safe and sound when I get back."

"You're the one going outside. _You_ be careful," Brienne countered emphatically but quietly. Her head was spinning, the top of her hand tingling where he had kissed it. She took a deep breath and continued. "Now, just go down the hall into the office and stay there for a minute. Then go around to the front door. I'm going to grab the hammer from the muck room. You should get the knife I left on the kitchen counter before going outside, just in case. He shouldn't be able to see you in there anyway."

"Good thing this house is older. If this were an open concept, we'd be fucked."

_We could still be fucked,_ she almost said but thought better of it. 

"Good luck," she said over her shoulder as she walked to the center of the room.

"You too."

Brienne waited for the creaking of the floorboard as Jaime walked away before moving. She darted to the muck room, grabbing the hammer hanging on the wall and inspected it. Not exactly her weapon of choice, but if all went to plan, It might not be even be necessary. After taking a moment to ready herself, she made her way back to the living room. Luckily, the stranger hadn't moved at all. His eyes lit up with interest as his prey came back into view, and she resisted the urge to gag.

This creep liked games? She would give him one. Santering up to the window, she tapped the pane lazily, making sure she had his attention. She did. He rolled his neck and began to approach the window, as Brienne resisted every instinct telling to back away. 

Though the house's foundation was reasonably high off the ground, his head reached about halfway up the wall. Still, having the advantage of the higher ground made Brienne feel calmer. The guy was muscular, but he didn't have the arm strength to climb through a window at this height. However, when they eventually reached the back door, and she didn't open it, he would likely be able to break it down. But she would worry about that when they got there. She put her hand flush up against the cold pane, wiggling her fingers. _Come and get me._ Just as her hand left the window and shifted over to one next to it, she heard the glass cracking. 

She winced. Jaime must have heard that. He had to understand how crucial it was to press on, so she crossed her fingers that the plan hadn't changed. Each crunch of shards deepened her resolve. She kept a slow, steady pace, moving from one side of the room to the other, giving each window on her way a tap or glide with her hand, before moving away to the next. She jumped back to one a couple of times, making sure he kept step with her each time. Without checking that he was still pursuing, she went through the doorway into the dining room. Sure enough, he was up against the glass before she was entirely inside the room, and to her chagrin, she jumped. 

Even in the relative darkness, _he_ picked up on it. This time he tapped the window with his enormous hand, flashing his teeth gleefully. 

She stayed nearly pressed against the dining room table as she shuffled through the room, but showed how brave she was (or wanted to appear) by whacking the window with the hammer. Half of her wanted to curse her foolishness; the other half felt provoked, ready to fight back. Whoever he was, he wanted to do Gods know what to her and terrify her all along the way. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of her fear. He nearly smashed the last pane wide open on the very last window in the corner, and she bolted for the doorway and turned into muck room.

Brienne stopped in front of the back door and took a fighting stance. It took her a moment to realize something was wrong. He should be at least climbing the porch's steps by now, but even ten seconds later was no sign of him. She couldn't see his long, imposing shadow on the grass anymore, either.

The game was up. Mr. Teeth must have been smarter than she thought and realized that she was just the bait, the distraction. He was now going to go after the real threat to his fun. And Jaime didn't know what was coming.

_No, you can't have him._

Without a second thought, she opened the back door, gripping the hammer like a vice. Making sure to step lightly, she climbed down the back porch and peered around the side of the house. He was quickly trudging in the direction of the driveway, intent clear. Simple distractions wouldn't work anymore; she needed to act. As swiftly and quietly as she could, she crouched low in the grass and pursued him. 

Brienne wasn't sure if she would be able to stop her foe completely, but all she needed to do was buy Jaime some time until he could get back into the house and make the call. She could do that, she hoped.

Luckily, the grass was so wet that stepping on the fallen leaves didn't make much noise. She still did her best to avoid them, because one crunch sound and the whole thing was shot. The closer she got to the vast retreating back in front of her, the more her heart began to race. And before she was ready for it, she was directly behind him.

Mustering her courage, she leaped onto his back, one arm around his neck, the other swinging the hammer into his torso. She successfully landed one hit after the other, first one in his shoulder, the other in his side. Like she had been hoping, he didn't scream but hissed loudly. It would all be a waste if Jaime heard and came running.

He staggered backward, attempting to slam her against the house in the hopes of knocking her off. But no matter how many times he bashed into the house, she couldn't be thrown. She dug her extremely short nails into where she was already grasping tightly, not daring to let go for an instant. He reached behind him, his arm swinging wildly. Before she could lean out of the way, his fingers caught hold of a chunk of her hair, and he tugged on it with absurd strength, trying to flip her over his shoulder. 

She couldn't stop herself from crying out as he pulled at her thin, brittle locks that felt as though they were about to be ripped from her scalp. Despite that, she tried to pull her head in the opposite direction, shoving his shoulders away with all her power. It worked temporarily, both of them struggling for the upper hand, but eventually, the pain became too much. Brienne tumbled over his right shoulder and felt the wind knocked out of her as she slammed onto the ground, dropping the hammer.

Spots were floating in her vision as she tried to reorient herself. Before she could sit up, a foot stomped down painfully on her chest, keeping her pressed into the earth. She tried to squirm out from under the shoe. It might've worked, had the grass been muddier, but it remained mostly stationary. She then attempted to grab at the laces of the boot and rip them away, to no avail. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as he seemed to be close to breaking her ribs.

As quickly as the foot had landed, it was off. Brienne coughed harshly, trying to get more air when a hand seized her by the neck. She saught to kick his legs out from under him as he crouched lower, but he was too solid. Before she knew it, he was on top of her, both hands on her throat. No matter how many attempts she made to pry his hands off her, it was useless. She was trapped.

Despairing, Brienne thought of her father. She hadn't exactly been the daughter he always wanted, no matter how much he had perpetually said otherwise. They would see each other again very soon. She doubted that he'd be pleased that she died in this fashion, but there were far worse ways to die than protecting a loved one. 

Then Jaime drifted into her slipping mind. From the start, the odds of both of them escaping this situation were doubtful. If there was any time to tell him how she felt, it was back in the house only moments ago. Now he would never know. That one regret gnawed at her as she felt the last of her strength ebbing away. He would be safe at least, and Brienne could never regret that. It would have to be enough.

This creature wouldn't last much longer after taking the blows she gave him. She could still feel the blood from it soaking through the side of her shirt. But judging from his unwaveringly cruel leer, he didn't care. His large, ruddy face drew closer and closer, relishing the terror in her eyes. She knew what was about to happen. He opened his mouth wide, bearing down on her left cheek. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see, though her vision seemed to be fading away on its own. The pain came, as she knew it would, but it felt oddly distant and dull. 

A familiar voice that seemed to come from far away was shouting, _"No! Get off her!"_

Suddenly, the teeth that had just sunk deep into her flesh were gone, and the hands crushing her throat was violently ripped away. The ragged gasping coughs that followed were surprisingly painful, and they left her too weak to move until her breathing had begun to balance out again. Her vision was still wabbling as she sat up dazedly, trying to locate her attacker. But he was already gone.

Jaime had finished what she had started, laying into the fallen, bleeding creature with the hammer she had dropped. Each time the hammer fell, Jaime let out a guttural cry of fury. Once the vile creature had finally quit moving, Brienne expected Jaime to stop, but he didn't. His yells eventually quieted, but his aim didn't falter.

"It-- it's over, Jaime. You can stop now. Jaime?" she called, her voice coming out in a broken rasp. He didn't seem to hear her. She approached cautiously, considering stretching a hand out to him, but his swings were only growing wilder. The man was already long dead, and his face was becoming more unrecognizable with each blow. Some of his teeth could still be seen, shattered, and spread by the hammer's force. But Jaime kept going, his knuckles white except for the blood splattered on them. "Stop it, please! _Jaime!"_

His name seemed to be the only thing to get through. Jaime came back to himself. Dropping the hammer as though it burned him, he whipped around to look at her. His livid expression immediately softened, and his shoulders sagged in what could only be relief. The sight brought tears to her eyes. With trembling hands, he reached for her. 

"Come here," he croaked. Brienne crashed into him, burying her face into his neck and clutching his shirt, a small shuddering sob escaping her. Together they sunk to the muddy grass, huddled together as if bracing for a storm. He planted quick but fervent kisses into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm _sorry._ He-- he was hurting you, and I--"

"Thank you," Brienne whispered hoarsely into his now tear-and-blood soaked shirt collar, gripping him even tighter. She then felt the stinging pulse of the bite on her face stronger than ever. She drew away from him, holding up a hand to block the undoubtedly disgusting sight from view. She was already ugly, but the scar the bite marks would surely leave would make people shrink away from her on the sidewalk. Whereas before, they only stared at her, put off or perplexed by her appearance. The occasional asshole would directly insult her, but now, _everyone_ would. Jaime would never want to be seen with her now. A monster had died, but not before leaving one in its place. 

"Let me see," Jaime asked. She flinched away and shook her head rapidly.

"No, no. It's too gross. _I'm_ too gross. Don't look," she begged, whimpering through gritted teeth as her tears renewed. She tried to wriggle from the circle of his arms, but his hold on her waist was steady.

"Oh, _Sweetheart,"_ he sighed, his tone so impossibly tender that it was hard to look at him. "You are the furthest thing from gross. Please, let me see you."

He had only called her that once before. It was ages ago, during a particularly heated debate about something she'd long forgotten. He'd called her 'sweetheart' in the most condescending tone possible. It had brought a blush of embarrassment and anger to her cheeks, which he proceeded to mock.

The sincerity and ease with which he had just used the word puzzled her. It was as though he called her that all the time. For a moment, she let the warmth of it wash over her. This would undoubtedly be the last time she heard it. Once she revealed her new disfigurement, he would see.

Full of dread, she dropped her trembling hand and waited for him to recoil in fear and revulsion. He didn't. After getting a long look at her face, he leaned closer until his nose brushed against hers.

"There's my Brienne, brave and glorious as ever," he said in hushed tones. "You don't need to hide from me. Not _ever."_

And he kissed her. Delicately, so as not to jostle her recent injury, she assumed. But his lips met hers all the same. She would've thought it was solely out of pity if there wasn't so much heat behind it, simmering ardently, just under the surface. Jaime was wrong; she wasn't glorious, in any sense of the word. But _this_ was. 

Eventually, Jaime's lips moved away, and he went back to holding her close, this time being especially careful of her wounds. She didn't know how long they sat there, but she was close to freezing by the time they finally heard the sirens.

* * *

According to the Goldcloaks, they'd been looking for "The Biter" for a long time. He was part of a gang of criminals called the Bloody Mummers that had been wreaking havoc all over Westeros. The story of his death (altered incredibly by Tywin Lannister's influence, she was sure) made the news. Brienne didn't watch, but she heard about it from many people who suddenly acted as though they were her best friends.

She did appreciate that Pod and Sansa had both stopped by, bearing a "get well soon" balloon and a stuffed bear (which Jaime cracked a smile and waggled his eyebrows at her when he saw). They seemed like unusual gifts for the circumstances. But to be fair, people didn't often need to know what to give a friend who was almost ripped to shreds by a vicious murderer. They did their best to hide it, but she could sense their apprehension as their eyes settled on the bandages covering her cheek. She did her best to appear unaffected by the whole thing, for their sake. They left with reassured smiles on their faces, and she was content.

Jaime had offered to let Brienne move into his apartment. He said that she shouldn't have to live in a place with such awful memories attached to it, that she could stay with him while looking for somewhere better. Closer to the city is what he didn't say, but she knew that's what he meant. 

She turned him down. They were already in a weird place after The Biter incident. That night, it felt as though a dam had broken in her chest. She had clung to Jaime and let him kiss her as if... 

But that moment had passed, and they hadn't mentioned anything about it since. And it wasn't like Jaime didn't have every opportunity. He had come over almost every day since then. He would typically bring food and an idea of what they could watch, or bring over a book he thought she might like. Sometimes they would even talk about the nightmares they'd been having as a result of what happened, and take comfort in the fact that they weren't alone in their healing.

Though she appreciated his company greatly, his behavior was a bit off. There was an almost _hesitance_ in how he interacted with her now. He didn't touch her as much as he used to, even when they were casual friends. She had already been mourning the fact that his lips would never touch hers again. This newest development was another blow.

It was clear now that Jaime had only been swept up in the emotion of the moment. He had done things he would never have in his right mind. And now, back to his senses, he would simply pretend it had never happened. At least she wouldn't be rejected outright. Eventually, he would see that she got the message, and their friendship could return to just about normal. And she could deal with that, for the most part.

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" Jaime asked, clearly aware of her distraction. They were sitting on his couch, watching some movie she hadn't been paying attention to.

His recent cagey behavior was getting under her skin a whole lot more than she thought it would. While he continued to spend time with her and was respectful of her still fragile feelings, his effort to physically distance himself from her was verging on maddening. They were on opposite sides of the couch, when about a month ago, their shoulders would have been almost touching. As much as she tried to ignore it, it _hurt._ And at that moment, his earnest eyes sparked her dejection into anger. The words that had been at the tip of her tongue for days spilled out.

"Jaime, just drop the act," she snapped, standing up.

"Huh?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Look, you've been acting strange around me since... two weeks ago. And I know why. You don't want me to get the wrong idea. You regret kissing me, and that's fine," Brienne said, the words fighting her on their way out of her mouth. "I get it. But, don't pretend you're doing me this great service by hanging out with me out of pity."

Jaime seemed to be at a loss for words. She couldn't imagine why but went on anyway.

"The two of us being friends was already a stretch. Spending time together in public was hard enough before. But this," she pointed directly to the bite marks that circled the left side of her face. She'd removed the bandages a few days ago, having worn them longer than strictly necessary. "This really _is_ the final nail in the coffin, huh?"

"What are you talking about, Brienne? In _what_ coffin?" he questioned, still looking utterly bewildered.

"I know you would never be interested in me. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew," she blurted, as if saying the words quickly would erase the hurt punctuating every syllable. Everything in her brain was screaming, _what are you doing?!_ But the toothpaste had left the tube— no turning back now.

"That has been the case for nearly every man I've ever come across. It's not a big deal; I'm used to it. But, there have been a couple of times when you would look at me, and for a little while... I would forget that I looked the way I do. And that isn't your fault; I don't blame you in the slightest. But the way you look at me _now_ only reminds me of how ridiculous it was to think for even a _second_ that you might ever want--"

He launched himself off the couch, and his lips crashed into hers, stealing her breath. His arms coiled around her until she was pulled flush against him. At first she froze, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had. She considered pulling away, frightened by how heavenly Jaime's warm, calloused fingers felt as they caressed her now trembling skin. But after his tongue slipped into her mouth and delicately circled her own, she melted into him, all fear drifting away like it never existed.

_If this is a joke,_ she thought as her head spun, _let it never end. Jaime can laugh all he wants, as long as he keeps touching me._

Too soon, he pulled away. Brienne instantly felt bereft, almost leaning back in to kiss him herself. Before she could, Jaime's steady hands came up; one held the nape of her neck, the other cupping her uninjured surely mottled cheek. His brilliant eyes traveled her face with near reverence. 

"Of _course_ I want you, Brienne. I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea," he said gently, his face still inches from hers. "When you never brought it up, I assumed you weren't interested. I was trying to be okay with that, but it's been torture." 

"R--really?" she asked hesitantly, still waiting for the inevitable punchline.

_"Yes_ , really, wench," he said. "I thought I was doing at least a decent job of hiding it. But it looks like I was wrong. I've been crazy for you _long_ before two weeks ago, but when it all happened..." 

His expression darkened. Brienne could tell that he was back there, on the cold, wet grass, feeling as though the world was about to fall under his feet. She brought a hand up to squeeze his shoulder, and that seemed to pull him back. But his face didn't change.

"I need you to promise me something."

"What is it, Jaime?" she asked, his name feeling somehow sweeter on her tongue. Her fingers drifted up and brushed through his golden hair, as she always longed to do. It was as soft as it looked. At this moment, she felt that she would promise him almost anything.

"That night, as I came around that corner and saw him on top of you, you weren't m--" he stopped, his breath hitching momentarily. "You weren't moving."

Brienne's eyes widened. She hadn't given much thought to what Jaime might have seen. Her desire to protect him had eclipsed everything else. She would never regret it, but the ghost of panic and desperation in Jaime's eyes still tugged forcibly at her heartstrings. Her hand came back down to hold the wrist inches from her face, squeezing it in a way she hoped was comforting.

"I got into the house and made the call, but before I was done, I heard you scream, and knew what you must have done. I ran as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, you had gone so still and _quiet._ I thought he'd..." 

His voice becoming nothing more than a horrified whisper, he trailed off. With more confidence than Brienne felt she possessed, she planted a soft kiss on his forehead. He sighed, leaning lightly into her lips. She looked directly into his eyes again, languidly rubbing his wrist with her thumb. It seemed to calm him. He cleared his throat and took a couple of slow deep breaths, trying to regain full composure. Brienne gave him the time he needed. His sorrow was waining, but just a swiftly, something else was replacing it.

"I still don't think I beat that monster hard enough."

"Jaime."

"Brienne. Promise you won't do something that stupid ever again," he pleaded, his hand leaving her cheek to grasp hers, his fingers weaving with her own and gripping tightly. She knew he would reject whatever she would say next. Even so, he looked to be holding his breath for her reply.

"Saving you isn't stupid," she said as he released her and with a scoff. He took a step back, his mouth now a thin line. Though she had expected the reaction, she fought not to wince. Brienne continued, resolved. "Letting him hurt you was out of the question. It was my mistake that put you in danger in the first place."

Jaime's mouth fell open, confusion replacing anger in an instant. He was about to ask a question when she cut him off.

"It was _my_ plan. You only went along with it because I told you to. So if you're going to call me a stupid again, do it for the right reason." She admits, biting her lip to distract her from tears threatening to brim over.

"Brie--"

"I almost got you killed because I'm an _idiot,"_ she whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Jaime."

"Stop. Stop it, right now," he commanded, grabbing her shoulder firmly. He pulled her in for another embrace, rubbing circles into her back. "You have _nothing_ to apologize for. You _saved_ me. No one has ever done anything like that for me. Not one. You are one of the bravest, kindest, most selfless people I've ever met." 

She listened, not believing any of it, but his soothing words helped somewhat calm the storm of guilt raging inside her. Eventually, she let the waiting tears fall, her head coming down to rest on his shoulder.

"And you're _not_ an idiot. Far from it, in fact. We only survived that night because of you." 

"But you said--" she mumbled, sniffling.

"I know what I said. It's just--," Jaime said, and she could feel him looking around the room as if the right thing to say would materialize if he searched hard enough. With a tired sigh, he leaned his head against hers. "You terrify me."

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it wasn't that. She couldn't help but draw back enough to look at him.

"I _do?"_

He nodded solemnly. She considered this, the idea itself utterly absurd. What would Jaime have to fear from her?

"Why?"

"Do you honestly think I'd want to live in a world where you died saving my sorry ass?" he asked, his expression somehow becoming more somber. "I would _break,_ Brienne."

He said nothing else, but she could feel him swaying, as though contemplating that reality made his legs shaky. Her arms tightened around his waist, holding him steady. He responded instantly, nestling into her neck.

"It's alright, Jaime. We're alright now," she repeated in his ear, wishing there was more she could do to ease his troubled mind. But it seemed to be enough for him. They stood merged for what could have been a couple of minutes or an hour, neither of them wanting to extricate themselves from the other. When they parted, Jaime fixed her with a stern look.

"I know that those were unique, particularly hellish circumstances. And I know you'll never promise not to put yourself at risk like that again. I won't waste my breath any more than I already have," Jaime said exasperatedly. "But next time, if we have the option, we fight together. Can you at least promise me that?" he ended with a faint wary smile on his lips, still slightly swollen from their kiss. She pecked them again, and his eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise. A more genuine smile spread across his face. She returned it. 

"I can."

"Good, because I'm holding you to it," he said as they settled back onto the couch, his arm around her shoulder. They began watching the movie again, though neither of them knew or cared what was happening on screen. Before long, Brienne spoke up again.

"Hey, in a couple of months, I'm going back to Tarth to... pay my dad a visit. It's completely okay if you don't want to, but do you think you could come with--" 

"If you want me there, I'll be there. End of story," he declared definitively.

"Thank you," she said, relieved at how quickly he had agreed. It must have shown on her face because Jaime shot her a look.

"What, you thought I'd pass up a chance to see your island, spending day after day walking the beach with you, hearing tales of your childhood? Not to mention answering the ultimate question: do the Sapphire Isle's waters hold a candle to your eyes?" he asked. "Probably not, but I would like to know for sure."

"You like my eyes?" she questioned, stunned by the compliment.

He gazed adoringly at her before planting another kiss to her temple and leaning his head into hers. "You've got a lot to learn, wench."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! If you did, feel free to post a comment, I love any feedback I can get!


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